Читать книгу Another Heaven - Annu Subramanian - Страница 9

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Pennoor Junction • November 10, 2009 • 6:25 p.m.

The train wheezed to a halt by platform # 3 on that weepy evening. Tina looked at the throng of people—porters in red, passengers crisscrossing towards exits, and vendors screaming through their lungs to tout their products. The window looked foggy, sadly glazed in mucky water and grime. She pressed her nose against the milky glass and noticed the small Nilgiris café next to the Deltanet telephone store where her contact from The Express was supposed to wait for her. Then it started to rain again. Tired and annoyed at the end of the three-hour delay, she reached for her small suitcase when the earsplitting announcement threw her off balance.

“Attention, please. All passengers who are about to leave any train that has just arrived will remain inside the train. All passengers waiting to board one will assemble in the nearest shelter on the platform,” the announcer cleared her throat and continued. “We are facing an emergency. Please remain calm and follow these instructions in an orderly manner.”

The announcement was repeated in the same monotonous tone in Tamil, Hindi, and English. After a lapse of a few silent minutes, the station was caught in a wave of hustle and bustle as the crowd tried to find an exit. The train began its slow departure in the middle of whistles and noises, and an assortment of anxious men and women quickly got into the moving train, frantically piling on any flat surface.

“What’s going on?” asked a middle-aged passenger.

“Those politicians, naturally,” another passenger disgustedly spluttered the name of the ruling party, “they’re trying to stall the opposition’s meeting.”

The train picked up speed. While a few passengers reached for their cell phones, Tina tried her aunt’s number.

“Aunt Rita?” Tina desperately hoped to get hold of her relative, but all she heard was a buzz. Next, she tried to send a message via e-mail, but she could not connect to the Internet. Her voice, unfortunately, attracted the attention of the rest of the passengers, and they stared at her curiously.

Tina tried to retreat into the corner as far as she could, pushing her long, wavy, brown-black hair away from her forehead. She was used to being stared at—her light brown eyes and olive complexion announced to the public that she was not a local. Especially in that closed atmosphere, during an uncertain journey, she wished more than anything to be home.

Tina swallowed nervously and wondered where the train was going. As she took stock of the newly boarded passengers, she noticed that some of the men were overtly staring at her. While she nervously wiped her sticky palm on her faded jeans, the train slowed down and stopped at a small station. Most passengers rushed to the door to get out, and Tina was glad. That would leave fewer eyes to stare at her. She didn’t mind the company of the men who had occupied the compartment since her departure from Chennai. One, an elderly gentleman, had introduced himself as a Professor of Biology who was ready to retire in a year or two. The other was a psychologist.

Tina’s anxious eyes went to the milling crowd on the platform. She read the name of the town on the large yellow slab of stone; Seloor. Why did that name sound familiar? When she turned her nervous glance at the newly boarded passengers, the psychologist smiled at her.

“Excuse me, are you going to get down here or…?” he asked.

“Do you know where the train is going?” Tina asked him.

“At this point, all I know is that it is taking a detour,” he replied, curiously looking at her.

The first whistle blew. A couple of passengers who had just boarded looked absolutely unsavory. Tina made up her mind. She grabbed her suitcase and gingerly stepped down. Then she took out the small address book from her backpack to see if her aunt had written down any other useful information beside the phone numbers.

Sylvia Joseph

236 First Cross Street

Seloor…

Sylvia Joseph… Aunt Rita’s friend…

Seloor! No wonder, the name of the town sounded familiar. Tina’s thankful glance went back to the inscription on the large yellow slab of stone. Her aunt’s friend would be glad to help her. Then, she read the note she had scribbled below the address: Sylvia will be out of town from November 8th until December 12th.

That was the end of Sylvia Joseph. Tina’s disappointed eyes moved rapidly through the next few contact numbers. Hadn’t her aunt written down a list of small hotels? Seloor had some kind of bed-and-breakfast facility annexed to a YWCA building. It shouldn’t be difficult to get accommodation in one of those establishments. Feeling a little relieved, she dropped the address book into her backpack and followed the psychologist out of the platform.

Tina’s hopeless glance flew to the few taxis and private cars parked in the tiny parking lot, and there was already a long line clamoring for the remaining taxis. She stared inquisitively at the dense throng of people—a woman selling flower garlands in a rickety stall, a young man scurrying about with a stack of regional newspaper in his arms, the mixed aroma of coffee, tea, and grilled savories—a strange harmony in a whirl of chaos. The soothing breeze, laced by the willowing neem branches, licked her tired face. Pushing her dancing hair away from her eyes, she let her uneasy glance settle on the name of the station, fighting for attention in the dust-coated, white piece of stone. Seloor. Kuyil Extension. Kuyil Extension. With a painful gasp, she realized that she was in the district where the horrific October blast had occurred. Once again wondering why she took the train alone, Tina stole a glance at her companion.

“Hello, yes, it is Shaker here,” said the gentleman, answering his cell phone. “I can hardly hear you. The connection is very fuzzy. I don’t know what happened at Pennoor Junction. I was forced to sit in the train and then got down at Seloor. Can you send a car to the station? Oh, you already sent one? Thanks. I wasn’t sure if you had received my earlier message. I’ll just have to stay somewhere and catch a bus or train to Pennoor tomorrow morning.”

He switched off the phone and turned towards Tina. Only then she noticed how he effortlessly towered over her slim, five-foot-six-inches frame. An arrant tuft of wavy hair persistently fell on one side of his broad forehead. She tried to guess his age, slyly glancing at his smiling eyes, broad shoulders, and sharp features. He could be anywhere between late-twenties and mid-thirties. Shaker. A psychologist. Of course, she had come across his name in journals.

“May I give you a lift to…wherever you wish to stay tonight?” he asked, smiling.

“Stay tonight?” asked Tina, desperately searching for the right words.

“Most probably, every bus that could take us to Pennoor would be booked to the hilt. There won’t even be standing room. People panic, naturally, and they must be trying to get away after what happened at the junction. I heard the trains are all cancelled, and I don’t think one will leave until tomorrow morning. All taxis here must be taken, but my friend has arranged for a hired car to take us out of here.”

“Your friend? Does he live here?”

“No. If he did, I wouldn’t be looking for a place to stay right now. He has some business connections here, and he contacted a friend to get us out of this mess, at least temporarily. A private taxi should arrive soon.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Could this driver take us directly to Pennoor instead of a hotel or some other place? It couldn’t be far?”

“Unfortunately, they can’t spare the taxi tonight. The driver can’t take us farther than twenty, thirty minutes. Anyway, my friend cautioned me that the access to the city is blocked and it may not be cleared for several hours. The buses, even if we can get into one, would probably take a long detour. I’m not sure.”

A small car, rather old and dented, stopped by the bend near the exit.

“Dr. Shaker, it is good to see you again,” smiled the driver. He opened the passenger door for the psychologist while inquisitively staring at Tina.

As Tina was shuffling her feet in embarrassment, Shaker opened the back door for her. She absentmindedly stepped inside, and he took the seat next to the driver’s.

“To the guest house, Dr. Shaker?” asked the driver.

“Not yet. Let’s find out where the lady wants to go.”

The driver looked sharply at Shaker. “Oh, sorry. I thought she was going with you,” he whispered and turned to Tina, trying not to gawk at her perfectly shaped lips and beautiful brown eyes. “Where do you want me to take you, Madam?”

Where did she want to go? She didn’t want to admit that she had nowhere to go.

“Can you please take me to the YWCA hostel?” asked Tina, taking a quick look at the list of phone numbers and addresses. “It’s on Temple Street.” Then, she tried the number of her aunt’s home again. “I don’t know why my phone isn’t working. I charged it only this morning.”

“Why don’t you try mine?” asked Shaker.

She gladly took his phone and tried her aunt’s number again. “No, it’s not working. I don’t think it’s the phone. It must be the connection to my aunt’s,” sighed Tina, returning his phone to him.

“You can understand why the driver can’t take us directly to Pennoor. It would probably take several hours at this pace,” said Shaker, impatiently observing the plodding, bumper-to-bumper traffic.

“Yes.” Tina smiled nervously, not really wanting to understand. Frustrated and tired, she let her weary eyes rest on the beautiful countryside, and her weary eyes saw a sea of green as far as they could reach. The route got gritty and uncomfortable, especially with the crawling traffic and puffing exhaust fumes, but her eyes were busy absorbing the thickening greenery, the slinking streams, and the birds’ noisy journey to the welcoming branches. Then they saw something that took her breath away—a tall dilapidated building behind a thin, short curtain of trees. It looked like a ruined temple, a crumbling structure with graceful columns, the kind that inevitably appears in tour books and vacation brochures.

The taxi reached the hostel in the next ten minutes at a snail’s pace, and there was nothing surrounding the building except wide green fields.

An elderly guard opened the rusty gate and demanded, “What do you want?”

When the driver began to speak to the guard in speedy Tamil through the window, Tina’s anxiety increased.

“Let me ask the manager,” grumbled the elderly man, and walked towards the main building.

“If they have a room available, would you like to spend the night here?” asked Shaker.

Tina looked at the stately structure again as the amber sun threw meager light on the ancient building. It appeared to be a big home that had received no favors from its residents. The guard soon returned with a lanky man, who brought with him an unpleasant odor of sweat and stale coffee. He nervously looked at the visitors through heavy spectacles, combing his unkempt hair with his fingers. Tina took another look at the manager in the fading light and wondered if she should simply return to the station and wait there till help arrived.

The manager spoke briefly to Shaker and turned to Tina and asked, “I’ve a room available, if you wish to stay here tonight?”

“Sir, are there quite a few guests…women staying here right now?” asked Tina, moving her eyes from the manager to the expansive building.

“Yes, Madam, we have some guests today, some women and children,” the manager took a quick breath and blurted awkwardly, “and we’re renovating.”

Renovation. Tina glanced at the building again. She could not make much of it in the rapidly increasing darkness. A couple of windows let out a dim light, and for the most part, the brick and mortar looked weary and spent.

“But,” continued the manager, looking directly and a little awkwardly at Shaker, “Sir, the warden of the facility won’t allow men to stay overnight. It’s regulation. Sorry.”

“I understand,” responded Shaker, glancing up at the tall building.

“Should we take your bag inside, Madam?” The manager’s voice brought Tina back to her precarious situation.

“Yes, please,” she replied, stepping out of the car.

The driver retrieved her small suitcase from the trunk and followed the manager towards the entrance. Tina was surprised and relieved to have the psychologist walk with her.

“Dr. Shaker, thank you for all you have done. I can’t tell you how…” Tina’s voice stumbled, a little overwhelmed by his share on that strange and unfathomable evening.

“I’m glad to be of some help. I’ll return tomorrow morning, and let’s see if we can catch a bus or get a taxi to Pennoor, that is, if you still wish for some assistance.”

“Yes, I still do need your help, and thank you,” Tina spoke sincerely before stepping into the dingy foyer that was tightly enveloped in musty smells. An indistinct and nauseating odor was bursting from the interior, despite a strong suggestion of disinfectant.

“I wish I could find a better place for you to stay,” said Dr. Shaker, giving the room a disapproving look, and moved a step closer to her. His spontaneous concern softened his sharp features.

An unconscious thought knocked on her senses from somewhere in the back of her mind. The stranger owed her nothing. Still, there he was—kind, thoughtful. “Where are you staying?” she asked, feeling compelled to say something.

“I was thinking of a guesthouse. It is shared by a publishing company and another business. I’ve stayed at the facility a couple of times. When I called earlier, they said they didn’t have a vacant room, but I can spend the night in the foyer until morning since I know the manager.” He hesitated before adding, “That’s why I can’t offer to take you with me. I mean it’s all right for me, but for you to stay all night in such an area without a room...”

“Don’t worry,” interrupted Tina. “You’ve done enough already, but…” she lingered, holding on to one more possibility before he disappeared through the night, “if you must spend the night in a foyer, why not here, if it’s all the same to you?”

“I’d like to, but remember, the manager was reluctant to let me stay. He said that the warden wouldn’t allow male guests here due to regulations, probably because this place is allotted for women at the moment. Again, if I knew for sure that I could get you a decent accommodation elsewhere…”

“That’s quite all right. I should be fine here for a night. I probably should’ve waited at the station until I found another train to Pennoor or one back to Chennai.”

“No. That wouldn’t be safe,” he whispered, taking a long look at her anxious expression. “But if you really insist on waiting at the station, I’ll wait there with you.”

“No, that’s silly. I’ll spend the night here.”

“Well, in that case, here is my card. This is my cell number. Please don’t hesitate to call me any time tonight. May I have your number?” he asked, quickly registering the information in his phone. “I’ll be back in the morning. Good night.” He held out his hand.

Tina reluctantly extricated her shaky hand from his firm grip and turned towards the front desk. A stocky woman was standing now behind the manager’s desk, wearing a crisp, starched cotton sari in pale blue. Her black hair, with specks of gray, was pulled into a tight bun. “Should I pay for the room now or in the morning?” asked Tina.

The stocky woman’s cold glance first rested on Tina and then traveled to Shaker. “You can pay now. That’s the regulation,” she replied flatly, smoothing the sari across her ample bosom. “I’m the warden of this facility,” she continued, as though like an afterthought. “Currently, we’re operating as an interim shelter for homeless women and children. I mean, a part of the building is reserved for that purpose.”

Homeless women and children? Tina sadly observed the dusty shelves and cracked walls. When she reached for her wallet inside her backpack, Shaker stopped her effortlessly.

“Please let me,” he whispered, shoving some money into the woman’s hand. “Take care of the young lady,” he said to the warden. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

His gesture, however kind and thoughtful, made Tina feel like a child. She took a last look at Shaker, who was still standing by the desk, and followed the warden up the stairs. Tina placed the suitcase on a rickety table inside a small, musty room. Under the table was a dented metal stool. The only other item left in the room was a camp cot with a pillow and a crumpled white sheet.

“There’s some water on the table. Don’t forget to lock your door, and don’t wander about the building. That’s prohibited!” The warden’s rigid words matched her severe personality as she made her smile-less exit.

Tina sat down thankfully on the cot, but she wouldn’t dare rest her head on the pillow. The pillowcase was dirty; it couldn’t have seen soap and water in weeks. Disgusted, she got up and surveyed the small room. She noticed a door at the other end. Initially, she thought it was a closet. But when she peered through the narrow glass panel, she saw a set of descending stairs, and the door was locked. On the other side of the room was a small bathroom, with a stained toilet and a grimy shower stall.

She walked back to the bed and sat gingerly on the edge. Again, like a forlorn knell, the terrorist’s declaration sat in the silent room with her. The end of all means is the beginning. How she wished to bury that maddening statement! Perhaps, if she could fall asleep. She opened her suitcase and pulled out a towel. She placed it on the pillow, set the alarm on her phone for 5 a.m., and closed her eyes to find asleep.